These Foolish Thoughts
by SandsOfDorne
Summary: Draco, the boy who seemingly has everything, is haunted by the thoughts of a certain Hermione Granger. Formerly a one shot story that story took place during the Christmas Break of Draco's third year at Hogwarts, now expanded into a saga chronicling the tormenting of Draco's heart. I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling.
1. Chapter I: Awakening

**A/N: Thank you in advance for reading this. I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to leave a comment. I want to hear your feedback. Always makes my day to hear what people think of my writing, for better or worse. Now to the story...**

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up."

-Neil Gaiman (_The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones)_

O O O

It had been a day of presents, feasting, and laughter, the latter being an extreme rarity in the Malfoy household, especially of the joyful sort without any sinister undertones. The extended family and select others spent the day enjoying the Christmas holiday with Draco and his parents. But despite this one day in which his life felt normal, there was one thought that continued to preoccupy his mind:

A girl.

Draco lied awake in his bed, unable to fall asleep. His room was dark, save for the light from the night sky pouring in through his windows. He felt empty and alone here. At the moment his only company was his latest assortment of Christmas presents and his thoughts. His thoughts. Oh, how we wish he could stop thinking right now, but he could not. How strange it was that out of all the things that would haunt Draco throughout the day it would be Hermione Granger of all things. The plain faced girl with the bucked teeth, always studying and always with that lowly Weasley boy and Potter. How Draco loathed the lot of them. He never understood the likability of any of them. There was no appeal. Granger was a mudblood, Weasley was, well, a Weasley, and Potter always seemed exhort an unhealthy arrogance.

But there was something admirable about this trio. There was a love and loyalty between them. Yes, they quarreled at times, but at the end of the day, they were truly there for each other. They were truly friends. Draco had friends, sure, but at times he wondered why they were his friends to begin with? What if his name was not Malfoy? How many would stand beside him then?

The thought of the plain faced girl kept crawling into his mind. Draco fought it off all day. It puzzled him why her image and her voice kept haunting him throughout the day. There were various moments where Draco had wondered what would Hermione think of this situation or this moment? How would this mudblood navigate this room of purebloods? She was a clever girl however. Draco knew this. If Hermione had hypothetically been there, almost no one would suspect she were a mudblood. She had a deep knowledge of the wizarding world, all learned in such a brief window of time. Incredible. There had also been moments when it was simply thought of being in her presence; holding her hand, watching her smile, or seeing her laugh. These little instances plagued his mind throughout what should have been a joyous day. It had been Christmas after all.

Draco finally had enough of it. He had enough of lying there and being tormented by these pathetic thoughts. He had enough of thinking about her. Draco turned and got out of his bed. The old wooden floors creaked beneath his stocking feet and they continued to do so as he made his way out into the hall. There was a cabinet on the other end where Draco's parents kept some potions. Hopefully, a good sleeping drought would be among them. The hall was silent except for the floors, obviously. Thankfully there were no portraits on this part of the floor, so he would not have to worry about being stealthy or considerate. Nobody liked a grumpy portrait.

Draco finally made his way to the cabinet. He fumbled through it for a few moments before finding the sleeping drought. He closed the cabinet and went off back to his room with the potion. As he was about to go back into his bed, Draco noticed that it was snowing outside. The flakes fell gently. He walked over to the window and could see the snow had already started to build up on the garden.

"_She would like this, wouldn't she?"_ Draco thought to himself. The instant the thought came to him, Draco wanted to slap himself silly.

"Don't be stupid, you idiot," Draco said to himself. "She's a filthy, insufferable, little mudblood. What would father think if you ever brought Granger here with you? He'd be appalled! You would be ridiculed. And what if it ever went further? You would be an outcast!"

Draco hated the thoughts he had about Hermione; the thought of holding her hand at dinner, the thought of cuddling by the fireplace and snogging, the thought of dancing with her beneath the snow and moonlight. All these things he did not to feel or think about. It was impossible. Purebloods did not mix around with Muggle borns, unless you were foolish like the bloody Weasley clan. These foolish thoughts angered him. Even if he truly wanted them to come true, there would be no possibility they would. Lucius would never allow it. Imagine the horror of his only child continuing their line with a Muggle born!

Instead of annoyed, Draco now felt angry and upset. He hated this conflicting feeling inside. On one hand, there was a burning desire to be with Granger, but on the other he knew this all went against everything he and his family stood for. Oh, how he loathed this girl, but at the same time, deep down, Draco knew he loved her. If only things could be different. If only he did not care so much about blood purity. If only Hermione were pueblooded. But these things could not be. For the boy that had everything, there would be one thing in which he could never have.

Draco crawled back into bed and opened the bottle of the sleeping drought. He took a quick gulp and set the bottle on the night stand. Within a few moments, Draco's mind drifted away for several hours from this world into a place where it was safe to be with Hermione; his dreams.


	2. Chapter II: The Forest

Now in his dream, Draco was in the midst of a great plain of snow, building what appeared to be a castle. As he was patting down one of the walls, a sudden force hit him in the back, nearly causing him to collapse on top of his creation. He looked behind him, trying to find the perpetrator. He scanned the landscape around him, but there was nobody to be seen. Suddenly, something his back again. Draco could feel the cold icy "shrapnel" that hit his neck.

"Okay, you had your laugh. Joke's over," he said. "Show yourself."

But there was no response, the lack of which sent an eerie feeling into Draco. He slowly returned to working on his castle, continuing right back where he was. It was not long before he forgot about the mysterious snowballs that his back. That is until he started to notice a sound in the distance. Draco stopped and listened. It was the crunching of snow. It grew louder. Someone was coming toward him. Draco shot up, but he there was nobody in his sight.

"Who's out there?" Draco shouted.

This time there was a response to his question: a soft giggle was heard out in the distance.

"Show yourself!"

"Come and find me" a voice said.

"Who are you?" Draco returned.

"You have to come find me first."

Draco immediately began walking out into the infinite white sea of snow.

"I don't see anything," he said.

The voice didn't respond. The only sound to be heard was the crunching of snow underneath Draco's boots. Every step felt like more of a disappointment than the last. There was nothing to be seen. Draco wanted to give up hope. He face was growing increasingly cold. Some of the snow was getting in his boots.

Just when he was about to give up hope, Draco saw something in the distance. At first he could not make it out. It was a tall, slim figure. He took a few more steps and he saw a few more similar objects. Then a few more steps and Draco realized what was before him—a forest. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Something other than endless snow. It seemed like mere moments before he found himself among the trees. Now beneath the forest canopy, Draco stopped to take a breath. He looked around. No signs of life. It was just him alone among the trees. Or so he thought.

Another snowball exploded on his back. Draco quickly darted around, scanning for the mysterious individual.

"Merlin's beard!" Draco muttered.

"Up here, silly boy!" the voice said.

Draco upward. At first he saw only the thick snow covered canopy above him. Then as if someone was lifting off a veil, he saw it, or rather, he saw her.

"Hermione?" he asked softly.

Hermione jumped down from the tree, a fall that normally would have caused serious damage to a person, but she landed like a cat—feet flat on the ground.

"Took you long enough," Hermione said with a slight grin.

"Where did you come from?" Draco asked.

"Never mind that. It's just us. Alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you see anyone else?"

"We can't be too careful. After all, there's charms and cloaks, and other thing—"Draco began to say. He was cut off by Hermione, who had put a finger over his mouth.

"You talk too much," Hermione said. "Here, take my hand. I want to show you something."

Draco obediently took her hand. A sudden surge of warmth swept through him. This was good. They surged through the dense forest. Draco almost ran into the trees on several occasions, but his guide was quick to help avoid the face plants.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked.

"Just wait," Hermione responded.

The journey continued for a little while longer until they reached a small brook. There he saw it—a cottage. It was not the abandoned or decrepit structure one expected to find in an ancient forest such as this one. Rather, the cottage was very picturesque, like the kind one may find in a storybook. The cottage was built from stones of various shades, ranging from light brown to pitch black. The roof appeared freshly thatched. Smoke emitted from the chimney and a glorious smell poured out from the windows.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I suppose, for a small shack this is…efficient," Draco said, trying to his best to hide his admiration for the structure."

"Come along, now. A house is best admired by its outside, but a home by its inside." Hermione said as she drug Draco along.

The two hurried inside the humble abode. It was not quite what Draco expected. It was very well furnished, almost like somebody had raided a mansion. Ancient, but well preserved furniture and carpet populated the space. Bookshelves holding the tales and information of a thousand lives ran across the walls. Opposite the entrance was a marble fireplace with engravings of cherubim. Draco walked over to the fireplace, quick to warm himself up.

"Do you like it?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yes." Draco slowly replied. "I quite like it."

"I made it for you. For us."

Draco turned and looked at Hermione.

"For us?"

"Yes! There's charms all over the place. I placed them myself. Nobody will ever know we're here, not even your family."

"Not even my father?"

"Not even him."

Draco walked over to Hermione, throwing his arms around her.

"Thank you, Hermione."

"You're welcome, Draco."

Draco backed away and looked deeply into her eyes. It was like being pulled in by siren's song. A calmness overwhelmed him. There was a serene quality to her, something different than the other girls he had known—those uptight pureblood types. Before he knew it, his face grew closer and closer to her before finally their lips met. For a moment, everything melted away. There was not forest. There was cottage. There was no world. There was just Hermione and him, and that's all that mattered. Draco backed away and looked at Hermione's face: plain, but beautiful. Then he noticed something off. Her expression turned from joyous to fearful. An overwhelming darkness grew around them. Draco turned and saw his father. An unpleasant scowl formed on the elder Malfoy's face.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy! What are you doing fraternizing with this mudblood child?" Lucius asked sternly.

"Father, I—I" Draco started, but was quickly interrupted by his father.

"How dare you betray our family! How dare you betray your heritage? Does our name mean nothing to you? Does your blood not matter? How can you allow yourself to taint yourself like this?"

"But, father, her talents go beyond even most purebloods. Why does her purity matter?"

"Because, Draco, magic is _our_ gift. It does not belong in the hands of such common creatures. If we allow these Muggles into our society, it's very fabric will be unraveled. Our sacred way of life will be lost."

"NO!" Draco shouted defiantly. "I won't leave her, father."

"Draco, back away from her this instant."

"I won't leave Hermione. I love her!"

"Love?" Lucius said, almost with a snort. "What do _you_ know about love? You're barely thirteen. This is mere infatuation; a response to sweeping emotions."

"It is love!"

"Enough of this! You are coming with me!"

"NO!"

"Then you leave me no choice. May you learn from your obstinance."

Lucius pulled his wand out from his black, cold cane, and pointed it directly in the direction of Draco and Hermione.

"Father, please."

"You're no son of mine, boy."

Draco grasped tightly to Hermione's hand.

O O O

Draco awoke in his bed. Sweat beat down his forehead. He looked down and saw his shirt was soaked through. Not even in his dreams was he safe. These thought about Hermione made him a captive within his own mind. There was nowhere he could run or hide. No escape. He was his only confidant. Now how he dreaded the inevitable return to school. How his feelings were sure to increase when he would be in her presence once more. He loathed this prospect.


	3. Chapter III: Train to Hogwarts

The weeks between Christmas and the return to Hogwarts had been long ones for Draco. Every second felt like an hour and every hour like a day. He had been dreading the train ride back to school, afraid of encountering Hermione. His heart swelled in agony nearly every waking moment, unable to escape the image of her face. He heard her voice everywhere. A slight tone in someone's voice or a particular phrasing would instantly remind young Draco of his forbidden crush. Draco did not want to go back to school. Seeing her was the last thing he would want to do. He had previously considered taking a couple of ailment potions that would prevent him from going back to Hogwarts for a while, but knew that his parents would see that it was a ruse of some sort, though the reason for it would be oblivious to them.

When Draco had arrived at Platform Nine and Three-quarters, he was quick to say goodbye to his parents and scurry off to his compartment, wanting to put off the inevitable encounter with Hermione for as long as he could. To the end of the semester if possible. However, he knew this was about as likely as Snape doing a jig in front of everyone at the return feast. Having made his way to his cabin, Draco quickly opened his bag, taking out one his schoolbooks and quickly began reading. Though not really one for reading recreationally, it did have the advantage of being an ample tool to deflect attention from unwanted persons.

Crabbe and Goyle eventually joined him in the cabin just as the train was about to leave the station, but Draco ignored their presence other than giving them a half-hearted greeting. The two took their places and talked among themselves about Christmas and other things. Without Draco being an active participant in their conversation, the dialogue was rather dull. Every once and a while either Crabbe or Goyle would say something to get Draco' attention, but he never responded—that is until he heard Goyle whisper to Crabbe: "What's with Draco having his nose in that book like he's Granger or something?"

Draco dropped the book on the floor, revealing his redden face, caused by a mixture of blushing and anger. How a simple name knew how to draw out a multitude of emotions. It almost made him look sick.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Crabbe asked.

How he wanted to respond about the truth of how he felt. His desires clinging for dear life onto his heart, unable to be shaken. But alas, there was nobody trustworthy enough to share his heart's true intents. Crabbe and Goyle were too simple minded to understand his inner complexities. Plus, with how much he had previously bashed mudbloods in their presence, it would confuse them all the more.

"It's nothing," Draco replied. "Reading while moving sometimes makes me queasy".

"Why are you reading in the first place?" Goyle asked.

"Because…I want to, er, beat the Granger girl. She thinks she's so academically clever. But any pureblood can do twice as good if they put in the same amount of effort she does. So that's what I'm going to do. Squash her in what she values most."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded, though somewhat confused by the plan. Draco blew a sigh of relief after he put the book back up to his face. He had almost blown it. He would have to be on guard at all times. If a small thing such as this could set him off, how much more so would it be when he finally is in the vicinity of Hermione. Draco dreaded the fast approaching moment. Only a few more hours until the arrival at Hogwarts.


End file.
